The last time someone tried to run an eye-catching passenger train from Los Angeles to Las Vegas, in the early 1970s, it was more like a cruise ship than a regular rail service, a rollicking ride along an old freight line with booze, gambling and live music nicknamed the Crapshooters Express. It left California on a Friday and returned its passengers – drunker, poorer and not always happier – in time for work on Monday morning.
The idea did not catch on, largely because the journey took seven-and-a-half hours each way, almost twice as long as crossing the Mojave desert by car and more than seven times as long as flying. On the train’s star-studded inaugural run, the scotch, bourbon, gin and vodka all ran out within an hour. Amtrak agreed to run the service only because the Las Vegas chamber of commerce agreed to cover any losses and then only on weekends during the winter months. Passenger numbers fell off precipitously and after going through a few different iterations, the venture collapsed.
